Legacy
by Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora
Summary: After Stryker's failed genocide, an unnamed and unknown mutant is found in his labs. The mutant is revealed to be Daken, Logan's son. Logan had lost his memories fifteen years ago. Can father and son heal, and can Logan face his forgotten and bloody past?
1. Forgotten

_ Forgotten_

Logan wasn't certain how he should react when he and the X-Men returned to Winchester, New York. It didn't feel right that they were there at all. Jean should be with them. Despite himself, Logan felt pressure on his chest, almost cutting off the air way from his lungs. He knew that the feeling was grief. Somehow he felt that he had felt that emotion before, but he couldn't remember his past life. Stryker had taken care of that. _Stryker, _Logan thought bitterly. He felt his adamantium claws struggling to come out. His first memory was waking up across from a dead woman – a beautiful woman, as beautiful as Jean was. He had felt that he had known her as well, but his memory eluded him. Just like now, with his grief.

Jean was the first X-Men who he saw. He remembered her short red hair, and startling green eyes. She became a very powerful mutant, powerful enough to stop the dam from drowning them all, and the world. Jean had sacrificed herself to save them. _Damn it, Jean. _Logan felt hot anger pulse through his body. _Why? Why did you have to – _He stopped himself from thinking of that. He was never good at that stuff. _I suppose I never was, _Logan thought wryly. He focused his attention onto the other surviving X-Men, who were shuffling out of the jet plane. Rouge was the first one he saw. He smiled despite himself, watching as she gently guided the frightened children inside along with her boyfriend, Bobby. Normally Storm would be doing something like this, but she was probably preoccupied in the jet. The Professor had already guided a grieving Cyclops inside the mansion, where they could talk privately.

"Storm," Logan called. He entered the jet plane. "Do you need help?" He could hear her heavy breathing as she was trying to lift something heavy. Actually, that something was a body.

"Logan," Storm said with relief and surprise, "help me here." An arm was draped around her shoulder. "We need to take him to the med lab."

Wordlessly, Logan put the other arm around his shoulder. Together, he and Storm lifted the unconscious form off his feet, and slowly made their way out of the jet plane. Curiosity pulsed through Logan's veins as he looked at the mutant. He was a couple years older than Rouge, in his early twenties. He was Asian, complete with short, dark, and straight black hair. His skin was pale, and his clothes were ripped and stained. "How do you know he's a mutant, Storm?" he asked.

"When Stryker's son tried to destroy the mutant population, we felt intense pain and ringing in our ears. The children tell me that he felt it too, but the pain that we felt was nothing compared to what he felt. He collapsed, and he hasn't woken up. The children tell me that he was already in there when they were put in that cage."

Logan remained silent as Storm talked. Although they had their differences, Logan acknowledged her abilities and her way with children. If the children told her that an unnamed mutant was there in the cage before them, then they must be telling the truth.

"Does the Professor know who he is?" he asked.

Storm shook her head. "The Professor tried, but there was a blockage. He can't hear his thoughts or see his memories." They were in the med-lab now, and with care, they eased the mutant down onto the table. Both Logan and Storm were fighting off their memories. Logan remembered when he had first woken up in the med-lab. He had been unconscious too. That was when he had first met Jean Grey. Storm was remembering when Senator Kelley had appeared to her, alone, as he called for her. She had watched him die. Both of them were lost in their memories until they both remembered where they were, and the unconscious mutant before them.

"You need to watch him."

"What?" Logan was deeply surprised, but it came out deeper than he intended to.

Storm sighed. "Logan, Jean would normally monitor him, but she can't. She's dead, Logan. You're the only one available that can watch over him." Before he could respond, she added, "The Professor is helping Scott, and I have to help the children. That only leaves you." She left him with the mutant without a backward glance.

"Damn it," Logan growled. Yes, Jean would be perfect for this situation. The only problem was that Jean was dead. _They must be desperate to replace Jean with me,_ he thought, eying the unconscious mutant curiously. "So, we're here in the penalty box." The mutant didn't respond. "This is going to be a long day." Logan complained. He sat down in a chair beside the mutant and waited.

It was about three more hours before the mutant woke up. Logan was pacing by that time, fingering his cigar. He wouldn't smoke in the med-lab because…well, Jean wouldn't approve. He was starting to lose his temper. When would this bastard wake up? He glared at the unconscious form. Logan was about to leave the goddamned room as he saw the motionless mutant twitch. He leaned in closer. Just then a hand reached out and grabbed his shirt. The grip was strong, Logan noticed, strong as his adamantium claws. The grip pulled him closer to the now-awake mutant. Sharp brown eyes stared back at him. A growl escaped from Logan's throat, and the mutant growled back with the same fierce determination. Both glared at each other. Logan struggled free from the mutant's grip. Suddenly, the mutant stood up in front of him, and he growled threateningly again.

Logan peered closer at him. The mutant was older than he originally thought, twenty-four or twenty-five at the most. He was no taller than Logan himself, who was six feet and two inches. His skin had become less pale, and his eyes were dark with rage and confusion. Logan noticed again that the mutant had brown eyes, and he was startled to find that the mutant had the same eyes as him. Logan's eyes were also brown, exactly brown as the soil from the earth. He saw pain, hurt, anger, and hidden memories in the mutant's eyes, as those same emotions were in _his _eyes.

"What's your name?" Logan growled. The mutant didn't move. He snarled at the older mutant, and didn't speak.

_"Nani itten da yo?"_ The mutant seemed to become more agitated then, snarling and balling his fists. He continued to glare at Logan, and screamed. _"Nani itten da yo?" _

_ What are you saying? _The words that he said come quickly, as fast as the dam that had killed Jean. Logan had almost missed what the mutant had said. He was shocked to find that he could understand the young mutant. _So, he's from Japan. _

_ "Omae no namae wa nan desu ka?"_ The Japanese mutant stiffened, as if he were struck by Logan's claws._ I asked him what his name was in Japanese._ Logan was perplexed. _How the hell did that happen?_ The words had just come out of his mouth.

_"Boku wa Daken desu." I am Daken, _Logan thought. It was odd that he understood Daken, when he had no knowledge of Japan or Japanese. The mutant – or Daken – didn't seem to trust him anymore than he had before. Although, his fists weren't clenched anymore. His arms stayed at his sides. _This enigma is giving me a headache. _Logan thought with exasperation. _The Professor will know what to do. _

_ "Ikanaide," _he said to Daken as he walked outside the med-lab. _Don't go. _


	2. Bloodlines

_Bloodlines_

"Daken is his name?" Storm asked Logan as she walked with Logan to the med lab. The taller man could tell that she was upset with him that he had left the mutant alone, but she kept her emotions in check.

"You're pronouncing his name wrong," Logan said abruptly. "The word a is pronounced like the word apple, and e is pronounced like the word effort. The syllables are very different than our own." He stopped talking as Storm stared at him curiously.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"I didn't know you could speak Japanese, Logan," she said in wonderment.

"Well, I didn't know either until a couple of minutes ago," Logan argued gruffly. He had told her what happened in the med lab. He was still perplexed by it. "The words just came out of my mouth." _Perhaps my memory is finally coming back,_ he thought wryly as the door to the med lab opened. Daken was gone. The bed was empty, and the sheets were perfectly folded as if he hadn't been there at all. "Damn it," Logan hissed. "Where is he?"

_He's with me, Logan, just as you were when you first regained consciousness. _The Professor's powers enabled him to speak with Logan with his mind. Still, Logan tensed at his words. He could see that Storm was wary as well. _Daken is alright. He's just confused and agitated. Rouge's with me too. _At the mention of Rouge, Storm's frown turned into a worried line. Rouge was a dangerous mutant in her own right, but Daken seemed to be unpredictable and they didn't know what his powers were. Logan ran to the Professor's office with Storm at his heels. The Professor was sitting in his wheelchair with a calm expression on his fac. Rouge turned around from the sound of the door opening, and a wide smile appeared on her face when she saw Logan. "Logan!" she said happily. "I was wondering where you were. You weren't with Storm or Professor X."

Logan couldn't help but give her a small smile. "I was watching Daken, who was found in Stryker's labs. He was unconscious when I watched him, and now…" he shrugged. "Do you know anything about him, Professor?" he asked as though Daken wasn't in the room.

"I think you know more than me, Logan," the Professor said with a glance at Daken. All three looked. The young mutant was standing behind the Professor with his back turned. His hands were at his sides, loose and relaxed. His clothes were completely black and torn, and Logan and the others saw for the first time that Daken didn't wear any shoes or socks. Although he was aware that the mutants were watching him, he didn't respond at first. Then he turned towards Logan. He seemed calmer than when Logan first met him. _I calmed his mind, although I wasn't able to reach his memories, _the Professor inferred.

"_Boku doko desu ka?" _Daken asked. _Where am I?_

Before Logan could respond, the Professor interrupted. He looked at Daken. A faint smile was on his lips. "I think you can understand us, can't you, Daken?"

"What do you mean?" Logan demanded.

"Daken _can_ understand us, Logan," the Professor said calmly. "He doesn't want us to know we understand him because he doesn't want to get hurt."

"Can you speak English?" Storm asked. Logan and Rouge slowly watched Daken's expression slowly turned to shock, fear, and then calm.

"_Hai,_" he said. "I mean, yes, I can speak English." Daken sighed and wouldn't meet their gaze. He had a slight Japanese accent, and his voice was low. "I didn't want you to find out."

"Why would you not want us to find out?" Rouge asked curiously.

"You would hurt me. You would imprison me. You would treat me like…_gomi,_" he snarled. "Like garbage."

"We're not like Stryker, Daken," Storm soothed. She placed her hand on his shoulder. Daken tensed, but he didn't break free. "The Professor saved many mutants like you. We were all broken once. Mutants around the world are feared and despised, but Professor X brought you here for medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention." Daken hissed, roughly breaking Storm's grip with him. The Professor watched the scene with interest. His hands were now folded in front of him, and Logan also remembered that he had said the same words. _"I don't need medical attention."_

"And why is that?" Storm asked. Her expression was unreadable.

"What's it to you?" Daken snarled.

"Why are you so nasty?" Rouge retorted angrily. "Storm's being nice to you."

Daken didn't say anything for a moment. Then he smirked at her. "So, what kind of name is Rouge?"

Rouge narrowed her eyes, and glared at him. "I don't know," she snapped mildly. "What kind of name is Daken?"

Logan laughed inside. This too was the exact conversation that he and Rouge had when they first met.

"You call yourself Rouge because you feel alone and isolated," Daken replied. "And you," he pointed at Storm, "call yourself Storm because you can control the weather and there is no telling what you'll do. I don't even know why you call yourself Professor X." Daken pointed at Logan. "You call yourself Wolverine because inside, even now, you feel like a caged animal. Wolverines are very viscous animals, as are you." He shrugged, indifferent to the varying expressions of the mutants in the room. "My codename means bastard dog or mongrel in Japanese. That's all I've been in my life. A bastard and a mongrel." Then he fell silent.

"But…" Rouge was no longer irritated with Daken, and was instead worried about him. "You do have a name, right?"

"My true name is Akira," he replied to her.

"Marie," she countered.

"I think Rouge should introduce Akira to the other students." Rouge nodded to the Professor's suggestion. "I also think that he should have a room ready. Storm…?" Storm nodded as well, and she and Storm exited the room with the mutant Akira slowly following behind them. "Logan, I need you to stay," he added to him as he was about to follow them out. Logan stayed where he was.

"I know that you are worried about Rouge, but there is a pressing issue that we need to discuss."

"Does it have to do with the fact that I can speak Japanese?" Logan asked. He was still as the Professor shook his head.

"No, but that has to deal with the issue. Logan," he said with a serious expression, "Akira was in Stryker's labs for fifteen years, around the time he infused your bone claws with adamantium, and when you lost your memory. I didn't know why then, but Stryker was also experimenting with Akira and his claws to see if he could fuse adamantium into them."

"Why is that?" Logan's mouth went dry with shock and anger that Stryker hadn't just done the experiment on him, but others as well.

"Here," the Professor pushed a computer in front of the mutant. "This will explain."

At first, Logan only saw Akira's mug shot. He looked the same as he did now fifteen years later. Then looking down, Logan saw additional information.

Name: Akira

Age: N/A

Gender: Male

Logan studied the DNA pattern, and found with shock that Akira's pattern was similar to his own. _"Masaka," _Logan gasped. The gears clicked into his brain. _Impossible._

"Logan," the Professor touched his forehead sympathetically. "I believe you know what this means." He reached into his mind, and then Logan was amerced in forgotten memories.

_He was standing in a kimono with a sword by his side. Logan was watching the cherry blossoms bloom, with an idyllic smile on his face. Japan was a wonderful country to live in, with a rich culture and history. He heard the wind chimes blow in the sweet wind, and he caught a hint of perfume behind him. He turned. Itsu, his newly wedded wife, was behind him with a gentle smile on her face. She carried tea on a plate, each in delicate cups. She greeted her husband with warmth, although Logan couldn't hear what she was saying. He saw himself saying something to her too, but he couldn't make out the words. He saw himself gently stroke her swelling pregnant belly._

Logan stumbled back into the desk. He didn't feel the pain from his back. Memories still lingered in his mind. Itsu…Japan…it was so complicated. _Akira…_ Logan thought, closing his eyes.

"Professor…is Akira…is he…my son…?"


	3. Who Are You?

_Who Are You?_

Daken walked slowly down the hallway in the mansion following Rouge. His dark eyes warily watched for signs of movement, but there were none. Rouge had told him that the children were afraid, both the ones who had been imprisoned and those who hadn't. They hid in their rooms, sleeping away their fears. Daken wanted to laugh – those mutant children had no idea what imprisonment meant. Imprisonment went locked up in a tiny cell, deprived of food and water until you begged to be experimented on. Daken had been at the mercy of Stryker, as his father had, or so the now-dead man had said. He had wanted to laugh at the naivety of the mutant children, but stopped himself. He had been like that once, fifteen years ago, when Stryker first found him.

Daken's claws threatened to come out, but he managed to hold them in. A part of him told him that he was safe here. Rouge led him to a room down the hall. She opened the door, and entered it. For the first time, Daken realized that Rouge was wearing gloves. _Why is she wearing them? _He thought with narrowed eyes as he watched her caress a boy's face with the gloves. She whispered something to him, and he saw the boy's eyes widen. He looked back at Daken and then at Rouge. Then he cleared his throat and put his arm around Rouge's shoulders, as if to protect her from Daken.

"Hello," he mumbled to Daken. "I'm Bobby Drake, and this is –"

"I know who she is," Daken snarled. He glared at Bobby, who flinched and looked away.

"You could at least be nice to him, Akira." Rouge was fuming, and she counterattacked Daken's glare.

Daken gave a laugh that startled the other two mutants in the room. It was high and had an intense volume. As he quieted, he looked at Rouge and at Bobby with contempt in his gaze.

_"No one _has been kind or nice to me since Stryker came and took me." He spat at them. The saliva dripped down onto the floor. "For _fifteen _years I lived in that hellhole. I've been starved, beaten, and experimented on since you two were fetuses! How can I be nice to _anyone_?"

"How old are you?" Bobby whispered.

"Why do want to know?" Daken smirked with amusement. "Will it matter to you?"

"Fine, then." Rouge whispered as well. She had become wary of angering Daken since his outburst. "What can you do? What is your power? Stryker must have wanted you for something." Daken's expression darkened suddenly. His eyes narrowed again, and she felt his muscles ripple and tense. His voice was blunt and curt.

"Hand me the knife over there." Rouge complied.

Without hesitation, Daken cut his a long laceration on his arm with the tip of the knife. His face was expressionless as he watched the blood flow. Then, the wound began to heal. The broken skin mended and healed completely. The blood was still there, its tear-like drips falling on the floor. Daken faced them. Rouge's and Bobby's expressions were complete shock.

"I can heal, I can regenerate from anything," Daken said gruffly, dripping the last of his blood onto the floor. "I don't age. This," he motioned his face, "has been what I looked like since I turned twenty-four, a long time ago," he added. "I also have animal-like senses an claws. I have three very sharp claws on three of my knuckles. I can kill someone with them." He gave them a lopsided smile. "Are still trying to process the information?"

"No, it's not that," Rouge spoke. Her voice trembled, and she swallowed. "Logan has that mutation too. He can heal from anything, and he has animal-like sense and bone claws too."

"Is that so?" Daken remembered the tall mutant who had been there when he had woken up. "Is that the guy with the strange hair and beard?"

"Yes." He could see that Rouge was trying to hold in her laughter at his description of Logan. "He saved us from Stryker, when he invaded the mansion. He's my friend too, though he's more like a father to me," she added quietly. Daken noticed the tenderness in her gaze when she spoke of him. He knew this Logan by his codename, _Wolverine_. Stryker had spoken of him many times during the fifteen years, and had angrily snapped more than once that Daken was just like him in his gruff manner, ruthlessness, and stubbornness. _Perhaps there's another side to him too. Perhaps there's another side to him that doesn't murder innocent pregnant women. _Anger threatened to engulf him again, and he felt the tips of his claws, but he breathed deeply until he was calm again. _I hate you for what you did to her, Wolverine._ He would tell no one of what Stryker told him, of what he knew about him, especially to Rouge.

"Who are you?" Bobby's voice broke his thoughts. The mutant was now able to look him in the eye. "Rouge said your name was Akira, right? Daken must be your codename, but do you have a last name?"

"A long time ago in Japan, only royalty and families of samurai could have a last name. They called them family names, while the rest of the poor resented the fact. The peasants, fishermen, and merchants simply called them second names. My mother," Daken shrugged, "didn't have a second name, and I don't remember the name she took after the war, and I didn't know her. So by taking a name from a woman that I didn't know, I would be denying my heritage, denying who I am."

"You're from Japan?" Rouge asked. Daken nodded. "So you're just known as Akira then?"

"Or Daken." Daken was uncomfortable with people calling him by his given name. People haven't called him Akira since _they _did, and Daken was very careful to not think about them. They were dead, anyway.

"So you have your memory," Bobby presumed boldly. Daken snarled and the other mutant shrank back again.

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" He hissed.

"L –Logan lost his memory fifteen years ago." Bobby stammered. "He has no memory before that. No one knows why, not even the Professor."

Daken's stomach sank. He felt the anger come upon him again, and gritted his teeth until they hurt. He turned away from the startled faces of Rouge and Bobby. Daken opened the door and slammed it shut. _He has no idea._ Daken fumed. _That monster has no idea of what he did. God damnit. _

_Then he has no idea who he is._


	4. Déjà Vu

_Déjà Vu_

_ "Masaka…" Impossible… _Logan's voice came out strangled, and a ball of grief went to his throat. An image of Daken when he first appeared burned in his mind, lost and forgotten, as he had been when awoke without knowing who he was. "Professor…is Akira…is he…my son…?" Logan forced himself to look at Charles Xavier. He found that the mutant seemed impassive, but Logan knew the Professor well enough to know that this was a serious matter.

"Yes," he said quietly. At last, Logan could feel the Professor's presence fade in his mind. "Akira is your son, Logan. I'm sorry." The mutant's pale blue eyes stared at him, full with pity. Logan drew his gaze away from him angrily. _I don't need pity._

"Why have my memories returned?" Logan mumbled vaguely. He remembered the warmth and tenderness that he and that Japanese woman had. "You told me that before this Stryker bullshit that I had to let my mind heal. You told me that it was protecting me!" Logan's monotone became a snarl sharp with violated trust. "Why are my memories returning now?"

"Not all of your memories, Logan." The Professor cautioned. "The memories that are returning are your memories of Japan…and of your wife, Itsu."

"What happened to her, Professor?" When the Professor didn't speak, Logan felt a lump in his throat again, and he felt his eyes sting. "She's dead, isn't she?" He found it odd that he was grieving for a woman who he only remembered vaguely.

"Yes, Logan. She died a long time ago." Without waiting for Logan to respond, he added, "Akira blames you for her death."

Logan narrowed his eyes. The young mutant had seemed indifferent to him, and now the Professor believed that Akira blamed _him _for his mother's death. Rage pulsed through his veins as he remembered the subtle hints that Akira had given him: he had called him a caged animal, and said that he was vicious. _"Wakari –" _he started to say, but then he stopped himself. "I don't understand," Logan growled.

"I don't understand either, Logan." The Professor wheeled toward the presumably younger mutant and touched his mind again. _You are going to have to talk with your son, you understand?_

Logan nodded. His mind was somehow still on Itsu, and he only heard only half of what the Professor had said. _I guess I will have to talk to my son, or our son, Itsu. _He left and closed the door to the Professor's office without a word.

Logan could sense something was wrong as he walked down the hallway to Rouge's room. There was a tension in the air, and he sniffed. He recognized Akira's scent, musty with anger and bewilderment. Before he could open the door, Rouge appeared before him. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and she looked away from Logan, guilt in her eyes.

"He's gone, Logan," she cried to her father-figure. "Bobby and I have no idea where he went."

"Is he gone from the mansion?" Logan asked. He could actually hear her heartbeat with his animal-like senses, beating frantically with stress.

"Yes," Rouge sighed, and ran her fingers through her long hair. "I don't know why Akira left, Logan. Bobby was just talking about you, about how you lost your memory."

_That information would definitely piss him off, _Logan thought grimly. _The guy thinks that I murdered his mother, only to find out that I don't even remember anything fifteen years past._

"Logan." Rouge's voice brought back him back to the present. Now her voice sounded as grim as his thoughts. "His mutation is similar to yours; Akira can heal from any wound rapidly, and has animal-like senses. He even has claws." Her voice was reduced to a whisper. "Please be careful. He could be anywhere."

Logan smirked, and slightly ruffled her hair. Rouge jumped slightly back, surprised at his rare display of affection. "Don't worry, kid." He said with confidence. "I'll find him. Besides, you know I can't be careful."

"Akira!" Logan had wandered outside after walking in circles around the gigantic mansion. He hadn't known that the place was so big, and wondered if Akira chose to run away from the mansion so the Professor couldn't hear his thoughts, hence finding him. "Akira!" Logan was now on the other side of the grounds, and was beginning to wonder if his son could also disappear. _If that's true, then he _definitely _didn't get that from me, _Logan wryly thought. He stopped at the base of a tree, and sat beneath the shade for a minute. He wondered what other memories he had of Itsu, his forgotten wife. Logan hadn't even remembered her face until the Professor looked into his mind. He saw her face now in his mind. Her face was a beautiful shade of milky white from the lack of sun, and long ebony black hair that went down to her back. Logan remembered her loving smile that she always had given him, the smile that had made him fall in love in with her the first place. He wondered now if he still loved her, or if she was a forgotten memory. Logan felt the gentle breeze stroke his beard, and he mused that it felt almost like a gentle caress that he would give to Itsu. He felt someone calling his name, _"Logan,"_ it said. The voice was female, and he felt a tug on his heart, as if he knew that voice from before somewhere. Then suddenly he was blinded by a searing pain in his skull. He gritted his teeth to not scream, but a faint moan escaped him. He collapsed into unconscious on the ground as another memory took root.

_He was running. He was running faster than he had when he and Victor had fought in the wars. "Kayla!" Fear controlled his movements, and fought the urge to scream in rage at his brother's sign; a dead wolverine. Logan wondered – while jumping over rocks and tripping slightly through the grass – how Victor had known the story between the wolverine and his lover. Kayla had told him that story. It was a story for him alone, a story to show how much she loved him as he was, not of how he used to be. Logan stopped short, gasping with breath at the sight of his truck – their truck – standing lopsided along the road. "Kayla!" He called. His heartbeat became frantic as a sense of dread overcame him. He slowly walked over toward the opening of the clearing, hoping that it wasn't true, hoping that he wouldn't find – _

_ Logan held her body in his arms. He felt the soft silk of her kimono in his arms, slick with blood. He forced himself to look at her face. The beautiful eyes of his wife were closed, never to open again. A deep wound spread from her neck to her swollen abdomen. Blood, her blood, soaked through her kimono even thought she stopped breathing. Itsu's blood covered his hands. He wiped the blood off her mouth, staining his own kimono with more blood. Logan couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could only stare at Itsu's beautiful and now dead face, dead because of him, and of their unborn child who would not see the world. Tears blurred his gaze until he couldn't see her face anymore, and he held her close as he broke out in sobs._

Logan awoke to find his neck stiff and his mind numb. He even found it hard to stand, and stumbled. _Kayla…Itsu…_ Logan thought of the women he loved who had died because of him. He stood with unsteady legs and looked around at the bright sunlight. Somehow the sunlight seemed dull and it happiness deceiving.

"_Omae wa me ga sameru da?" Are you awake?_

Logan looked up. Akira was standing in front of him.


	5. Born In Blood

_Born In Blood_

_ "Konnichi wa, Ōtosan." _Daken stated to Logan lying in front of him. He saw that his father was mildly startled that he was there. Logan stood unsteadily on his feet then, swaying beneath his weight. Daken made no move to help. He watched as his father blinked at the sun as he focused his gaze of him…his son. Daken had said, _Hello, Father. _The two mutants stood, waiting for a response from either of them. His father's dark eyes warily locked with Daken's. Daken wondered what Logan hoped to find in his eyes. Forgiveness? Love? All the emotions he had concealed in his eyes were emptiness and hate. The love and forgiveness had been vanquished long ago.

"I didn't kill your mother." It was Logan who spoke. His voice was unusually hollow, and Daken watched as his father's eyes darkened. "Someone else did. I don't who, but they killed her. It wasn't me." Daken watched as his father clenched his fists to hold back his claws. He watched in amusement and mild fascination as Logan held the anger and despair within him. Then Daken's amusement and fascination faded. He realized that he too had inherited that habit and the expressions – the closing of the eyes, the ragged breathing, and the grinding of the teeth – that came along with it. Logan opened his eyes again and released the tension in his hands. His eyes locked with Daken's again, and this time Daken spoke.

"You lie." He spoke the accusation in a whisper. The rage and agony was clear in his voice because he could barely speak the words. "You murdered my mother in cold blood." Now his voice was cold, deprived of any emotion. "For the past fifteen years, you've forgotten everything about your past. You forgot that you had a son, a product of perceived love to a Japanese woman named Itsu." He paused on his mother's name. Although he knew his mother's name, Daken didn't know anything else beside that. Stryker wouldn't tell him. He would only tell Daken the story of how his mother was murdered by a mutant who would become the Wolverine – his father. Wolverine had left his dead wife and unborn son in her womb for dead. An unknown man had come upon the body of the tragic body of his mother moments after, and had saved her son by reaching out into her womb and taking the child. "You had forgotten that you murdered the woman who you supposedly loved."

Daken was still alive because of his mutation, Stryker had told him with a small smile. His healing factor that he had inherited from the mutant who had murdered his mother. For the past fifteen years, the story had haunted him. It was what had driven him to survive. He had survived Stryker's experiments and torture to kill his father. When he had woken up in a new place and on a table with a tall mutant standing in front of him, at first Daken didn't know where or who he was. For the first time in fifteen years he spoke his native language, Japanese. He had learned English from Stryker, forcibly and painfully. He had been shocked when the mutant asked him who he was in his mother tongue as well. Daken's memories of Stryker and of his story about his mother, father, and birth surrounded his mind as he met the old mutant in the wheelchair, Rouge, and another one of the old mutant's followers. He had noticed that the other mutant – the one who he had first met – seemed somewhat indifferent. There was an air about him that Daken liked, mainly because the mutant reminded him of himself. Through his subconscious he knew that the mutant was his father, but Daken didn't acknowledge that right away. He didn't acknowledge the fact until Bobby had mentioned that Logan had forgotten his memories fifteen years past. Then, Daken realized that it was true – he had found his father who had murdered his mother. The mutant who had liked because Logan reminded Daken of himself, silent, aggressive, and lonely, was the same person.

Daken didn't know what action he should take, but now, standing in front of his father, he knew what to do. He wouldn't kill his father, but he would wound him. His father would be wounded in the exact same manner as his mother, though not fatal. It occurred to Daken then that he was not what people had him called upon decades and centuries, a _daken_, a mongrel or a bastard dog. He wasn't someone who would never be loved because of who he was. Perhaps none of that was true. A _daken _would murder his father. Perhaps there was something more to Daken…just as Yuusuke had told him. Daken swallowed painfully to forgot the man. He hadn't thought of him since that day in the tenth year of Meiji.

Daken didn't think as he charged at his father. For some reason, Logan remained motionless. He knew what about to happen, that he was going to be attacked by his own son, but he didn't fight him. He _couldn't _fight him. Daken's retractable claws met his father's soft pink flesh. He felt his father collapse onto the ground toward the tree, and Daken fell with him, his claws piercing his father's flesh. Hot blood seeped through his claws, staining them and his clothes as the blood seeped through the grass and his father's own clothes. His jacket was now stained with his blood. Daken's whole hand now reached into the wound, grasping the fragile flesh inside along the way. His father's body shuddered and shook. His face was white, and his lips were pale. He murmured something intelligible. Something stirred inside Daken to tell him to stop, but he didn't listen. His mother's body and his birth – he, who was born in blood, echoed images in his mind. His claws plunged upward, scarring more of the gentle flesh. He saw red.

Then he heard Logan scream.

The scream echoed across the mansion. It was loud with agony, almost shattering Daken's hearing. The sharpness of the scream was like knives, obscuring all hearing but the scream. Eventually the scream subsided, growing softer in each passing minute. Daken watched as his father's eyes closed. His body was still. Daken stood. He steeped from his father's body, blood on his hands. Daken had a sudden memory of Yuusuke, screaming in agony as well, more than one hundred years ago. He sighed. He was no good to anyone. The hope had been erased, vanquished when he had killed Yuusuke and wounded his father. Daken did what he did best.

He ran, losing himself in his memories.


	6. Origins: Part I

_Origins: Part I_

Takamaru Akira had been born on January 31, 1868 on the eve of the Meiji period. Akira had been born from a dead woman, and he was taken away by a mysterious man when his umbilical cord was freshly cut. No one knew where he came from. No one knew who his parents had been. The newborn baby boy was found on the doorstep of Takamaru Yuusuke, a former samurai, and his wife, Hanako. For many years the married couple had tried to have a child but to no avail. When a small newborn child with an unknown origin appeared wrapped in a bloodstained blanket on their doorstep, they took him as a sign of their prayers and raised him as his own.

Yuusuke and Hanako named the baby Akira. The child who would become the mutant Daken grew into the prosperous family. His father had once been a feared and respected samurai, who was now a _sensei_ who taught children like himself to defend themselves. He taught them _kendo_, the way of the sword. From the age of two, Akira remembered watching his father in fascination as he trained his students. He watched as the students grew stronger and faster with each passing lesson. Someday, the small boy had vowed, he would become strong as them. At the age of four his training with the _kendo _began, and his father did not lesson his iron grip because Akira was his son. For the next six years, Akira woke to find agonizing blisters on his hands. His feet and legs also were in pain from the mock battles he and his father's students had participated in. However, when a new blister came and bled, with the boy sore and aching each night, Akira smiled. He would become strong.

Hanako treated Akira with gentle kindness. It was she who treated the young boy's wounds, just as she had when he husband had been a samurai more than a decade ago. Hanako and Yuusuke had agreed to not tell young Akira about his origins. Stryker had told Akira that they did know his origins, but how would they tell a boy who knew nothing but comfort and love that he had been born to a dead woman? His father had certainly abandoned him, and hadn't searched for his son since that day eight years ago. However, Akira encountered cruel discrimination despite their efforts. The servants of the Takamaru estate had called the child _Daken, _which meant dog scoundrel, from his obvious foreign heritage. Although the boy did not have blue eyes, his eyes were larger and more rounded than theirs, and his hair was more dark brown than black. Akira also had long eyelashes, and as he grew older, became taller than any native Japanese should have been. The servants knew that Akira had been abandoned when his umbilical cord had been freshly cut. "Only a foreigner would abandon his newborn child," they had hissed at Akira as he passed by. "Your father was a _hakujin_; your mother was a whore." Akira never told Yuusuke or Hanako what the servants had whispered to him when the masters weren't around. It hurt too much to put into words. And so he kept the pain inside.

It happened in late November of 1878. Akira was ten years old at the time, and he was training by himself. He wacked at the tree with his _kendo _continuously, his mind only focused on the perspiration coating his forehead and the blood and pain seeping through his fingers. Moments later, he heard the sounds of screams and hoarse voices that had been deaf to his ears until now. Akira ran toward his parents' estate, where the screams were coming from. As he opened the doors to barren rooms, he began to become afraid. Decapitated bodies of the servants were scattered, lying in their own pool of blood.

The screams were becoming more agonized and desperate. His hairs stood on end, and Akira pushed his legs to the limit until he reached his parents' bedchamber. The boy suddenly hesitated. His father had ordered him to not enter their chamber under any circumstances necessary. Akira's heart pounded in his ears. Sweat pooled down from his face, and this time it wasn't from training. He could actually smell the blood. It clogged his nostrils, and he almost chocked on the intense smell. _"If you show your fear, it is over, Akira." _Yuusuke's soothing balm reached his ears. _"You are defended without your enemy making a move." _

Akira swallowed his fear deep inside him and opened the doorway. His father and mother were crouched down with their knees bent to a figure dressed in black. Cold eyes stared back at Akira when he entered the room. He shuddered inside and avoided his gaze, looking at his father instead. Yuusuke had been a proud man. He had fought in the Bakumatsu with the Shinsengumi. Unlike many other disgraced samurai who attained high government positions, or who secretly plotted against the government, he had trained the next generation with the art of _kendo_, just as he had been taught during the Tokugawa period. His young wife, who he had next seen for ten years, was waiting for him. Now the former samurai had his wrists bound, blood dripping where his right hand had been. Yuusuke held the pain inside, determined to not plead for mercy any longer. He watched in horror as the door to his bedchamber opened to reveal Akira, his foster son. Hanako was silent beside him, bleeding from a head wound. She became visebly paler at the sight of Akira.

"_Akira, hashitte!" Akira, run! _

Akira heard his mother shouting to him to run, but he couldn't move. He stared at his father's stump and his mother's pale bloodless face. The man in the black was looking at him carefully. He wasn't carrying any weapons, not that Akira could see. Anger suddenly stirred within him, and he felt his rage grow with each passing minute.

"_Nande?" Why? _Akira demanded. The man in the black didn't understand him, but Akira's distress was obvious. He laughed, sending chills through the boy. Akira then heard him speak. He didn't understand yet of course, what the language was. It was a rough language mixed with growls and grunts. It was then that Akira understood who this man was. He was a _hakujin_, a _gaijin_, a white man and a foreigner.

"Who am I?" Victor Creed laughed. "I'm your true family. You were taken from your father when someone wrenched you out of your mother's womb because of who he was. That man murdered your mother too." Suddenly Victor growled. "Jimmy is still very sad. He doesn't understand that his only son is alive. He can't do anything about it, but I will!" Akira stood still as he saw the _hakujin _raised his arms as his fingernails grew into small knives. "I will free you from this prison." With a sharp motion that only Akira could see, Victor slashed Takamaru Hanako's neck. Blood dripped into the fabric of her kimono. Her neck was in ribbons, and she vainly tried to breathe through the hole in her neck. Akira wasn't aware of his strong father whimpering as his mother bled out her life's blood. "I don't understand why Jimmy fell in love with these people," Victor spat as he crunched Hanako's neck. She had now ceased to breathe, and her eyes now had a film over them. "I'm still astonished that he married one."

"_Iie…" No… _Akira's father murmured. _"Iie…"_

Akira wavered his gaze from his grieving father to the _hakujin _before him. Although Akira could not understand his dialogue, the _hakujin _had undisguised contempt and hatred for his family. Why else had he murdered the innocent servants and his mother, whose body was now growing cold and hard?

"You're going to die too," Victor purred to Yuusuke. Somehow his father didn't respond. His eyes were dull, as if life were fleeting them. Akira watched, paralyzed, as Victor whispered something into his father's ear. He grasped the former samurai's shoulders with his long claws, causing more blood to seep onto the tatami mat. Something stirred inside Akira that wasn't rage. He felt his bones crackle from his hand and saw them vividly manifest. Victor Creed didn't notice. He remained focused on the defenseless man Japanese man before him. Akira felt his flesh rip open, but this time, he didn't feel pain.

Victor Creed stopped at looked at his half-nephew. Claws had appeared out of the boy's hands and forearms. Two claws escaped from his knuckles on either hand, and one single claw emerged from his forearm. They were made out of bone. Victor looked into his eyes. Akira's eyes were smothered with rage. _He does take after Jimmy after all,_ he smirked. Akira was running toward him now and rapidly gathering speed. "Come now, boy."

Akira heard sounds that he hadn't heard before. He heard the sound of his light feet on the tatami mats, and heard the birds outside. His heartbeat was in his ears, and he could see the smile on the face of the _hakujin_. His claws were screaming for blood. The _hakujin _was calm and still, compared to Akira's rampage. He aimed his claws at the vital points that his father had taught him years ago. He closed his eyes. Akira could_ feel_ him. He felt his claws tear through tender flesh…only to hear a scream. Akira opened his eyes. The _hakujin _was gone. Akira felt a familiar hand pull on his wrist. He looked at the face of his father, with blood trailing from his mouth. Akira couldn't speak. He only watched numbly as his father gagged on his own breath. Blood coated his silk kimono. Blood flew onto Akira's face as his father coughed blood.

"_Watashi…wa…anata no ōtosan…de wa arimasen…"I am not your father._ That was his last words. Akira slowly felt his claws retract, and his father – no, Yuusuke, collapsed. He was dead.

Akira saw blood coating his hands even though the claws hid it. He saw blood coating the tatami mats, forever staining them. He stared numbly at the man who he had considered to be his father. Yuusuke had told him that he was not his father. What was he? Akira thought suddenly. He didn't understand. If he was not Takamaru Akira, son of the _sensei _Yuusuke, who was he? What was he? Then he knew. He was nothing. He had no name, no family, and no home.

"_Boku wa naninonai da." I am nothing._ Akira ran from the bedchamber, ran from the bodies, and away from the estate, leaving the memories, secrets, and horror behind him.


	7. Origins: Part II

_Origins: Part II_

Akira ran. He ran until his lungs were screaming for breath. Faint warmth from the sun was on his back, and he stumbled on fallen leaves. A breath caught in his throat as one of his sandals slipped underneath the colorful leaves. The young mutant fell. For a second, Akira remained immobile. His ragged breathing echoed in his ears as he stared at his hands. His hands were now coated in dried blood, especially where the claws came out. Akira stood on his knees, neglecting the leaves that scratched his kimono. His kimono was stained with blood too, he could see. His dark eyes darted his soiled kimono and his hands. He tried to make the claws come out again, but to no avail. He sighed. Akira tried to not remember Yuusuke's last words. "_Watashi…wa…anata no ōtosan…de wa arimasen…"I am not your father._ A scream clogged in his throat. Who was he then? If he remembered correctly, the _hakujin _didn't appear to be surprised at his claws at all. In fact, the _hakujin _had smiled at Akira's rage. The ten year old shuddered, suddenly wondering where he was. Akira was in a forest, surrounded by trees. The leaves were falling gently to the ground. A couple tickled his face and one lied in his small hand. He heard the birds again with his sensitive hearing and smelled the distant sharp and dank odor of the tree. For a moment Akira was comforted. Then he remembered his foster family and the _hakujin_. They had been murdered in front of his eyes. If his father was not his father, then his mother was not his mother, he thought. Akira didn't understand what he was, with his claws and sensitive senses. But he knew one thing. He wasn't human, nor was he Takamaru Akira.

He was _Daken_.

Daken had lived in the mountains of Japan for fourteen years. He lived isolated, away from the citizens of Kyoto. They left him alone, which suited him fine. For fourteen years he lived alone, hunted alone, and slept alone. Daken had to be in the countryside, surrounded by nature and other animals; otherwise he would become the monster who killed Yuusuke again. Daken stayed away from the humans, as his blood would suddenly boil and bloodlust would overwhelm him. He stared in the faint moonlight at his claws. He sharpened his claws on tree bark, because in his mind, the claws were much like a sword. _"Your sword becomes weak if you do not hone it, as does your mind. Your body becomes weak as well." _Despite suppressing his memories, Yuusuke entered his mind. It was as if he was no longer Daken, but Takamaru Akira, a boy of ten years. He wondered who his father really was, and why he abandoned him. Sometimes, Daken used his claws when he hunted, and he couldn't suppress the thrill of sinking his claws into another's flesh. He could run as fast as any animal. He wondered if his unknown father had claws as well.

As the years went by, Daken realized that he had another ability. He did not age. He was twenty-four years old in the thirty-second year of Meiji – 1890 – when he looked at his reflection in the stream. His hair was more dark brown than black now, and his face was thin. The plumpness had gone from it, replacing the soft pale skin with a sun-drenched tan. Muscles rippled through his chest, legs, and arms. Daken's eyes were different as well. Unlike fourteen years ago, where the eyes spoke of pain and betrayal, his eyes were empty. Emptiness clouded his eyes. Ten years later his face and body remained the same, as what happened in the next two decades. It was known that humans would live to forty-five years in the early twentieth century, but Daken's body remained twenty-four years old. His mind, however, was fifty years old. A new decade, period, and Emperor reined. Japan was determined to be the strongest empire in the world, and to gain powers as the foreigners showed them.

Daken hated foreigners. He remembered how the _hakujin _from a distant land had forced him to kill Yuusuke. His cold blue eyes and barbaric language often haunted Daken in his dreams. He recalled when Yuusuke told him about the patriots in the Bakumatsu; of how they were not samurai but swordsman. They had wanted to restore the Emperor to his ancient seat of power, and detested foreigners. The patriots had wanted to remain an isolated nation. If Japan had remained an isolated nation, then the _hakujin _would not have killed his foster family. However, maybe Daken wouldn't have been born. He still recalled the whispers the servants had told him, and he was taller than any Japanese man hoped to be now. His hair was more dark brown than black, and he also was as muscular as the foreigners Yuusuke described to him long ago. Daken made no effort to join the wars to build the Japanese empire – he had no interest. He made no effort to learn other languages either, especially English. He was certain now that the _hakujin _spoke that language. Even as bombs and food shortages ravaged his country in World War II, Daken remained where he was, alone. He remained a ghost even as the war ended.

At age one-hundred eleven in the fifty-fourth year of the Shōwa period – 1979 – Daken was taken by Stryker. It was on a mild winter day, his birthday, January 31, in fact. Snow was melting in his hair and surveyed the scene around him. The tree branches were covered in snow, and it was still pelting the ground, he saw. Daken didn't witness many serene scenes, but this was one of them. He was watching the snow falling when he smelled a foreign scent. He squinted his eyes, but could not see beyond the snow. The scent was stronger now, he thought as his claws retracted from his hands, and somehow _vaguely _familiar. Daken snarled in surprise at the speed of the figure before him, and jumped away from it before it could wound him. The figure before him was on all fours, with sharpened nails more than six inches long. Cold blue eyes stared back at him, and Daken felt his heartbeat quicken. He looked at his enemy before him. The enemy was a _hakujin_, complete with Western clothes and dark brown hair. A jolt startled Daken.

"You," he growled. Daken didn't think that he would fight the _hakujin _who had taken away his foster family after more than a hundred years. Like him, the _hakujin _hadn't aged. The same cold blue eyes stared back at him. A sudden bloodlust overwhelmed the younger mutant, and he ran with his arms outstretched to Victor Creed. Daken managed to only swipe open air. The older mutant was laughing at him, he could see. He stood on two feet now, showing Daken his deadly fingernails, sharp as thorns. Daken aimed his claws at him again, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. Somehow the _hakujin _made no movement as Daken raced toward him. It was as if he didn't know that Daken was aiming to kill him.

Daken's claws made contact with flesh. It had been many years since he had used his claws against a human, but the excitement was thrilling as ever. Blood coated his claws, red as the sunset, and he heard bones crunch beneath the flesh. The _hakujin _didn't scream; he didn't even flinch. Instead he inserted a needle deep inside Daken's neck, causing the mutant to become paralyzed. Daken felt the _hakujin _remove his claws from his body. Daken watched, fascinated, as the wound healed itself. His claws retracted. He's just like me, was Daken's last thought before he was lost in unconsciousness.

He awoke in a cell. Dank smells greeted him, and he blinked water out of his eyes. Daken was lying on the cold floor in a windowless cell. Where was he? Even with his hypersensitive hearing, he couldn't hear the birds outside. He couldn't feel the sun on his face. He could only hear the rough tones of the language English. The door opened, and instinctively, his claws retracted. A man in a uniform stood before him. He was a _hakujin_, as was the mutant before. He had green eyes. The human was silent for a moment before he spoke.

He asked, "Do you know what you are?" Daken didn't understand what he was saying. Even though he knew what language was being spoken, he couldn't comprehend it. Daken saw the human sigh. "You are a mutant. Victor tells me that you have retraceable claws made of bone; an incredible healing factor, animal-like senses and agility, and that you have lived for over a century. But I see that you do not understand me." He turned away from Daken and opened the door before saying this. "Very well, son of Logan."

Stryker forced Daken to understand English. It was a tedious process, a language Daken had to learn in a week. Somehow Daken was able to understand simple commands and knew his captor's name: _Stryker_. It was then that Stryker experimented on Daken, determined to know how far his healing factor would go. He burned Daken with fire, fascinated as Daken's organs and skin healed before his eyes. A shot to the head rendered Daken unconscious for an hour before his wound was gone and he was conscious. Even starvation didn't sway Daken. His body still lived, although deprived, and Stryker watched fascinated. Multiple stab wounds and bullet wounds healed in seconds, and Stryker whispered, "He's like his father,"

It was then that Daken asked who his father was. "He is a mutant, with powers eerily similar to yours, Daken. His name is Logan, and he killed your mother. Logan arrived in Japan in 1866, a year after the Civil War. He wanted to live in a nation not at war, his brother told me. He fell in love with your mother, and was newly married when his bloodlust overwhelmed him, and he withdrew you from your mother's womb. You survived, but your mother didn't. Logan has no remorse for what he did to you or your mother. Now your father is hunting me down, merciless that he is." He stroked the mutant's face, and Daken had to force himself to not flinch. "He doesn't even know that he has a son."

Daken became imprisoned in Stryker's experiment lab for fifteen years. He was now one hundred fifty-two years old. The years seemed to blur together, and he dreamed of the day that he would kill his father. Stryker had told him that he was coming soon, and would be allowed to kill him as soon as he killed off the other mutants. Pain and agony exploded in his head as soundless scream echoed in his ears, and it didn't even last a minute. He fainted from the pain, and didn't know where he was when he woke up. Was it 1994? 2020? He didn't know. He only remembered his father's face as he stood with the mutant in the wheelchair. I will kill you, he thought. But he didn't kill him.

And now he was running away.


	8. Grief

_Grief_

It was Rouge who found Logan. Professor X had felt something ominous during that afternoon, and he told Storm and Rouge to find Logan and Akira. Storm found nothing of Akira, but Rouge found Logan, bleeding underneath a tree. He was unconscious and pale beside the green and lush grass. Rouge and Storm had together lifted the heavier mutant and carried him to the med lab. Professor X had met both of them there, trying to comfort a crying Rouge and a raging Storm.

"Why would Akira do something like this?" Rouge whispered. Her tears had not ceased, but now she was calmer, staring sadly at Logan's motionless form. Although Logan's wounds had healed, he was still unconscious. Professor X expected that Logan's body was internally recovering from the damage – and shock. He told Rouge and Storm this, and somehow both mutants were not comforted. _They care for him,_ Professor X thought with a smile. Logan's attempts at love had ended in tragedy, but perhaps there was a chance he could learn how to trust again. Akira had another chance as well.

"Perhaps he had been locked up in Stryker's prison for too long?" Storm suggested. She had wanted to look for Akira, but Professor X had forbidden it. He didn't know how Storm would react seeing the mutant who had attacked her friend. He hadn't told them about the vendetta Akira had with his father.

"But isn't Akira just a boy?" Rouge whispered. Professor X had seen her thoughts, and shared her concern for Akira's emotional state.

"Akira is older than he appears to be," Professor X explained calmly. He watched as Rouge looked at him curiously, and Storm had a similar expression on her face. "Do you remember when Akira talked to you and Bobby, about his mutation?" He asked to Rouge. She nodded. "He doesn't age, Strom. His body has been twenty-four years old since 1890." Rouge's eyes widened and Storm looked at Logan, her forehead crinkled.

"Does Logan have the same mutation?" Rouge asked. Professor X nodded. Amusement appeared on his face when Rouge realized how old Logan could be. "So he's older than you, Professor," she breathed. The teenage mutant was silent for a while, watching Logan's still face.

"What does Logan have to do with Akira?" Storm asked. She had now torn her gaze from Logan's face and was now looking at the Professor for answers. "They have the same mutation, but they were born continents apart, and we don't even know how old Logan actually is."

"Logan is Akira's father."

Professor X said this calmly to them, hoping to make the puzzle connect. Rouge remained still where she was. Professor X couldn't see her expression on her face. Storm's somber expression became confused. "But how…?"

"Logan travelled to Japan after the Civil War in 1866. He fell in love with a Japanese woman, and they were married a year later. She was murdered by a human who found out that Logan was a mutant." Professor X had seen Logan's grief-etched memories with his very eyes. He felt his agony and pain as he held his wife's body in his arms.

"Akira was a product of their marriage then. He thought that Logan murdered his mother," Storm concluded. Professor X nodded, sighing. Akira had run after he had wounded his father, and Professor X had witnessed the memories of his foster family's murder and Stryker's lies.

"Stryker fed Akira lies, you two." Professor added sadly. "He told Akira again and again that it was his father who killed his mother. I suppose he hoped that Akira would want to kill his father himself, saving him the energy of killing off his former experiments." He shook his head.

"Will Logan regain his memories?" Rouge asked. She had not moved from Logan's side.

"Perhaps, Rouge." The three continued their vigil.

_"I am nothing like you." _

_ Somewhere his voice echoed in his head. He tried to reach for something, anything, but he ended up holding only empty air. Logan knew he was talking to someone long ago, someone he knew, but he couldn't remember who he was._

_ "Tell me something Jimmy. Was she worth it?"_

_ Who was worth what? He couldn't understand why that person was calling him Jimmy either. Then a sudden memory engulfed him. A woman cradled in his arms – not the beautiful woman with the soft smile, but the raven-haired one. Blood was on her face. Another memory seared through him. He was running, running toward the man who had killed his father – only to find out that the man he killed was his father._

_ "What are you?"_

_ The disgust and revolt in her voice made him want to choke. He wanted to snarl, "A mutant." But he couldn't. The woman lying on the floor was someone special._

_ "James…"_

_ He heard the man who he though had been his father's voice. He heard_ her _voice, the one who had died with their unborn baby. Her name had been Itsu._

_ "Jimmy…Logan…"_

_ All these names made him confused. Who was he? He had to open his eyes. _

Logan awoke to find Storm and Rouge by his bedside. Rouge was holding his hand in her smaller one, and wept at his open eyes. She moved to embrace him, but he firmly but gently pushed her arms away. He didn't notice the gaping hole in his shirt.

"Where is Akira?" He asked. Neither Storm nor Rouge would answer him. "Where is Daken?" he asked again.

"He's at the Statue of Liberty, Logan. I found him with Cerebro" The Professor wheeled in calmly to face him. "Or should I say James?" He smiled.

Logan did not share the Professor's joy. "I'm going to the Statue of Liberty," he snapped. He stood and was about to exit the med lab when the Professor barred his way.

"Logan, your body hasn't healed enough yet."

"I'm almost two hundred years old, Professor," Logan said with a smirk. "I can take care of myself."

As he exited out the door, he heard Rouge whisper, "How old did he say he was?"


	9. Reunion

_Reunion_

Logan didn't know how fast he ran. It seemed to him that he was flying, images blurring before his eyes. He hadn't run fast as this before, even when…he searched for Kayla, finding her "body" lying in the grass among the forgotten trees. Despite himself, Logan growled. The memory was still there, haunting him. Even though her betrayal had been real, and she had died, Logan had loved her. Kayla had accepted him for who he truly was despite his mutation, and loved him as much as he loved her. Itsu had been the same way. Both women had died for him because of what he was and what he could do._ "I'm the best there is at what I do, and what I do best isn't very nice."_ Logan remembered now that the body he woke next fifteen years ago was Kayla. He remembered how her eyes were still open, staring, and the blood that flowed on her side. Logan had closed her eyes, unknowing that subconsciously this was the last expression of love for her. He hadn't remembered her then. He hadn't known what he had forgotten. Logan had forgotten Victor, Stryker, Weapon X, the wars, Itsu and Kayla…and Akira, the legacy that he left unknowingly behind.

_I should have killed him when I had the chance, _Logan thought as he finally came to a stop. He was now near the Statue of Liberty. This was where he had first fought with the X-Men against Magneto and Sabertooth. _I should have killed both of them. _Stryker had imprisoned and tortured his son for fifteen years, and Victor had joined the ranks with Magneto, killing innocent humans and mutants alike. Logan climbed onto the statue's feet, using his claws as a medium. As he continued to climb with his claws, he wondered how his memory had suddenly resurfaced. The memories of his father and Canada reached out to him. He remembered being loved and cared for, playing in the fields for hours with Victor, his father's gardener's son. Then his father had been murdered, and he had killed the son of a bitch who had murdered him, only to find out that Thomas Logan was his father, and Victor was his half brother. James Howelett ceased to exist that very night, vanishing with his half brother. Somehow the Civil War hadn't calmed his anger and pain even after four years of blood and gore. Something was missing, and although he denied it hotly to Victor, he had nightmares that caused him to wake in cold sweat. _"James…" _His father – no, the man who he thought had been his father, always called out to him.

Japan was a nation at war as well. Logan didn't give a shit. It was a place where he would find what he was missing. Unknown to him, he eventually found what he was missing: love. Itsu was promised for another, but that didn't stop him from falling in love with her. She was good with a sword, and actually taught Logan herself. She was very beautiful as well, her milky skin smooth against his own hard muscular body, and he found that she loved him too. Although their marriage was disapproved of by her father and her four brothers, Itsu and Logan lived happily for a time. His wife was going to give him a child, and he thought that nothing would stop his happiness. His nightmares had stopped. One day, he had accidently killed one of the merchants in the market from a ridiculous price of fish. He didn't mean to, and was disgusted with himself. The animal inside him had returned. Itsu was already dead when he arrived home. Her round stomach was cut open, and like with Kayla a century later, Logan held her body in his arms and sobbed as snow fell down on them. He didn't know that his son was alive.

Now the year was 2020, and Logan was one hundred seventy-five years old. His son, Akira, was here, and he had to talk to him before it was too late. Logan now stood on the Statue of Liberty, watching the lights below and the stars above him. Wind blew through his brown hair, and somehow all was right.

"I've always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty." Logan looked to find Akira across from him. The younger mutant was wearing the same clothes that he wore for the past fifteen years in Stryker's prison. His black shirt was now torn, exposing his collarbone and milky-white skin. His pants were shredded, the mutilated scraps flowing in the wind. Akira was still barefoot, and Logan noticed that his son's feet were healing before his eyes. Blood was still apparent, but the wounds were nonexistent.

"She's nothing special," Logan told his son. Akira still would not look at him, and instead continued staring at the water below. He couldn't see his expression on his face.

"Do you remember everything now?" Akira asked him. Logan nodded, and now his son looked at him. In this light, Logan saw that his hair was more dark brown than black, and that his eyes were filled with rage and sadness. "Do you remember my mother…and how you killed her?"

Logan didn't speak. Instead he sat down on the Statue of Liberty and looked at the water below. What did Akira see? What did _he _see? Sighing, Logan began to speak. "I was born James Howelett in 1835 to a Canadian land owner. I remember the early days when I was often ill and in bed from some illness or another. I was…fragile at that time. My father's gardener's son was my only friend. When I was ten years old, my father was murdered by him, Thomas Logan. I awakened my mutation, killing him, and only finding out that he was my true father." Akira remained silent as Logan talked. He didn't move and his face was expressionless. "My half brother, Victor, and I ran away. We came to a country known as America, and lived alone. We were always together, even as people chased us away, and even as we were outcasts. I met your mother in 1866 in Japan after the Civil War. I didn't know that I was looking for love until I saw her." Now Akira glanced at him. "She was very beautiful, Akira. She was a samurai's daughter with four brothers who were deadly with a sword. She was deadly with a sword as well, and taught me the way of the sword and the way of the samurai. Her name was Akihiro Itsu.

"We fell in love, even though she was promised to another. We were married, and you were conceived." Logan gritted his teeth to swallow a scream. The agonizing memories were still there, fresh and painful as ever. "I didn't mean to kill her. I was just…angry over a price, and killed the merchant. Itsu was dead, murdered by…a human. I'm certain that was their revenge. Akira, I suppose I killed your mother. Although I didn't bloody my hands, I was directly responsible for her death. I want you to know that I loved your mother; I could never do anything to her." Logan swallowed painfully. He felt that he was swallowing knives. "After she died, I didn't know what to do with myself. I went back to America, not caring if I lived or died. I was a shell of my former self. My nightmares of my father's murder returned with a vengeance, and Victor often threatened to kill me. I realized then that I would always be an animal; love cannot change who you truly are deep down. I was very sad. I didn't weep, although it felt as if a part of me died inside. There was a hole that couldn't be filled in. Victor disappeared for a time, then he reappeared. I don't know what happened, and then I started focusing my anger and rage and sorrow on war. I didn't know you were alive, Akira."

Akira didn't respond for a moment. Then he turned toward his father. Rage and sadness still persisted through his eyes. _"Kare wa kozoku koroshita." He killed my family._

Before Logan could respond, a voice called out.

"Jimmy."

He knew that voice. It was the same voice who had been from his first memories and last memories. It was the voice who had deceived him and killed his son's family. _"We could never be done, Jimmy . After all, we're brothers. And brothers look out for each other."_ _Is that what you mean, Victor?_

Slowly, father and son stood to face Victor Creed.


	10. Blood, Bones, and Redemption

_Blood, Bones, and Redemption_

"Jimmy." That single word had a meaning. It was his name. The first time that Victor had called him that was when their father had been murdered – by Logan himself, who had awakened his mutation for the first time at ten years old. Victor had been fifteen at that time, and been hiding his mutation for years. He was strong, stronger than Logan had been when he was ten years old. _"We're brothers, Jimmy. And brothers protect each other." _Victor had used the nickname as a term of endearment, something no one else did. His older brother had failed in that respect. He had deceived and wounded Logan many times over, and according to Akira, he had also murdered his son's family. It hurt to even look at Victor right now. His hair was now cut short again, and no longer unkempt and unruly with long bangs framing his face. It was a shade darker compared to when Logan had last fought him, back when he couldn't remember his past and that he was fighting his own brother. _This is the Victor I remember, _Logan thought as his older brother remained motionless. Despite himself, he smirked. _Not the Neanderthal animal who couldn't speak._

"Hello, Sabertooth." Satisfaction warmed Logan throughout his body as his brother growled at him. Akira remained silent, although Logan could see that his son was struggling to maintain his mutation at bay.

"Do you remember everything now?" Victor asked. His face was now expressionless.

"I remember everything, Victor." Now Logan used his brother's name. He met Victor's green eyes. "I remember all the people you've murdered, including my girlfriend."

"I didn't murder her!" Victor hissed. Suddenly the year was 1979 again and Logan was running as fast as he could to save his girlfriend, Kayla. "We conspired against you!"

"Kayla did those unspeakable things to save her flesh and blood!" Logan's adamantium claws were now out, mirroring the moonlight above them. Night stars covered the sky. "Which is more than you ever did!"

Logan saw his brother tense. His long claws were clicking against each other, a habit he had since Logan's earliest days with him. Now his eyes crinkled in rage.

"You killed my family."

Akira stood beside his father, struggling to focus. Logan could see that rage was overcoming his thoughts, and sometime soon he would see only red. His claws too were out; the bone claws were gleaming white, hungry for blood and bone.

"Yes, I did kill your family." Victor remained motionless where he was. The only flicker of emotion was that he blinked.

"Why?" Akira's eyes were sharp with pain. Logan remained where he was, remembering when he asked the same question to his brother years ago.

"I did it for your father, boy." Somehow this seemed to subdue Victor. His eyes did not burn with rage and a smug expression was not on his face. Logan however was shocked at his brother's response. He wanted to say, _What the hell do you mean, you piece of shit?_ But he remained silent. "Jimmy was so sad after he came back from Japan. I didn't recognize him, and it was as if he didn't want to live anymore." Victor's lighter eyes met Akira's dark ones. "I had to save my little brother, knowing that his only son was alive. I almost succeeded," Victor growled and clenched his hand into a fist. Blood ran from the wound. "He was a lot like you, Jimmy." Now his brother spoke to him. Something other than desperation clouded his gaze. "But he was too much like you. Too wild, too thirsty for blood, and too untamed. I left, hoping to never see him again."

"You killed my family." Akira's voice was choked with emotion. _"Wakari…masen." I don't understand. _Logan didn't bother to translate.

"This is your family." A small smile was on Victor's face. "Your family is here, comprised of mutants known as Wolverine and Sabertooth." Then his expression darkened. "I was doing you a favor. Your so-called family would have slaughtered you the moment they found out about your mutation. They were _humans_. Your mother was a_ human_. You two should be glad she is dead."

Now rage enveloped Logan. Itsu's bloody and torn body echoed in his mind. He remembered her smile, her small bubbles of laughter, and her touches that calmed the animal inside him. _She was more than human. She loved me as I was! _Logan growled deep inside his chest. He almost missed Victor's words.

"You are our family, Daken."

Logan saw his son stiffen. Then he raised his arms in front of him. _"Boku wa Akirra." I am Akira. _Blood flowed to Logan's head. _"Shine!" Die! _Then Akira and Logan charged.

Logan and Akira ran together, never a step apart. It was as if they were part of one body. The moon and stars above them disappeared. Victor was their sole focus. Akira suddenly ran ahead of Logan, his claws now above his head. He was aiming for Victor's eyes, Logan could see. Then Victor fluidly evaded Akira's attack, although Akira did manage to cut him slightly above the eyebrow. His healing factor gave in and the cut disappeared.

Victor laughed at Akira's stunned expression. His eyes locked with Logan's. "Tell me something, Jimmy. How exactly does your son plan to kill me?"

"He's going to cut your goddamned head off," Logan replied as Akira charged again. "See if that works."

Logan remained on Akira's side as they tried to bring Victor down. Itsu's voice suddenly whispered in his ear. _"Look your enemy in the eye. Then you can see what they're thinking, their weakness." I hear you now, Itsu. _Suddenly the training lessons with the samurai sword came rushing back, and his claws were a part of him, part of the sword. Beside Logan, he saw that his son was making the exact same motions. Victor evaded every attack that they made, no matter how fast or strong they were.

The three mutants were fighting on the Statue of Liberty's crown now. Logan and Akira dodged and attacked, never stopping and never backing down. Suddenly Akira held out his leg in front of him and Victor stumbled. Logan took his chance and fell on top of his brother so he couldn't move. He eased his claws into his chest, making contact with skin, blood, muscle, and bone. Victor didn't say a word or scream. He only looked at his younger brother with contempt in his eyes.

"You're one hundred ninety years old, and you fell for that simple trick?" Logan faintly smirked.

"Do you plan to kill me?" Victor said with a dangerous glint in his eye. Akira crouched down next to him. "Do it." He grinned.

Logan remembered Kayla's words to him. _"Logan, you're not an animal." _More than a hundred years ago, Itsu had said something similar. _"My father and brothers like to kill. It is something that they've always had since they held a wooden sword. You are not them. They are not haunted by the wars they fought or of the people they've killed; you are. You are not an animal." _"If I were an animal, I would cut you goddamned head off and say good-riddance," Logan whispered. "Somehow two women that deeply loved told me that I was not an animal." He gritted his teeth. "I would be dishonoring their memory if I became…"

"Me?" Victor guessed. Logan nodded. He could feel Akira watching them closely. "Maybe you will kill me once you hear this." Logan narrowed his eyes as his brother sighed. "I didn't tell you what happened after you ran from our father's body."

"No, you didn't." Logan's breath was in his throat. What was Victor talking about?

"Your mother, Elizabeth, killed herself after what happened." Logan only half-heard what Victor said next. His mind was numb, and he felt as if he wasn't part of his body. _My mother….killed herself? _"She was horrified that her former lover, our father, killed her husband. She was even more horrified that her only son murdered his father. He was a monster, like him. Your mother decided to end her life." Logan trembled. His hands shook and his mouth became dry as he remembered his mother's last words to him. _"What are you?" _Loathing and disgust echoed in her voice that day, and Logan had tried his hardest to forget what she had said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Logan choked.

Victor shrugged. "There was no reason. Besides, you would have killed me as easily as you killed our father. You're still more like him than me a century later."

"I am..._nothing_ like him." Logan pushed his claws further down in his brother's chest.

Victor was unimpressed. "You were, back then. Your emotions controlled you, and moved by instinct. Now I don't know what you are. Your mother's dead, Jimmy. She's been dead for over a hundred years. If she hadn't killed herself, she would still be dead. Let her go."

Logan heard his brother's words, as cold as the water below them. He slid his claws out in disgust and spat at his brother's face. The spittle flowed down his cheek.

"I can't let my mother go." It was Akira who spoke. He crouched down next to Victor, who hadn't moved. His eyes were now clear of rage that had been inside him. "My father loved my mother very much, as she did. She gave life to me. The man in the wheelchair said that my mother hated killing. He said that my mother was not killed by my father. He told me that as I was running away. I didn't believe him then, but I believe him now. You like to kill. I can still see you murdering my family before my eyes, and the way you enjoyed it. Both of my fathers did not enjoy killing. They try to preserve life as much as possible." Logan couldn't see Akira's expression. "Both of my mothers died for me…and I would disgrace my parents' legacy…both of their legacies…by killing you. I cannot kill you." Akira stood up. His eyes were impassive, but Logan could see a small smile growing on his face. Was that his first smile? Then he looked at his father. _"Ikitai, ōtosan." I want to go, father. _Logan slowly stood beside his son, and nodded. They both left Victor Creed where he was.

Akira and Logan walked to Winchester, New York. During that time, they talked. Mostly, Logan told his son about his mother. Akira told his father about growing up in Japan. Likewise, Logan told his son the happy days about growing up in Canada. He also talked about his gentle father and brother who had been everything to him. "He was my only companion," Logan said as the school for mutants came into view. He didn't stop. "Victor was my blood. That was why I couldn't kill him. The memories were still there. He told me that brothers protect each other. The same goes for family. That's what your mother taught me, Akira." Akira nodded, lost in his thoughts.

"That is why I couldn't kill you," he said. Logan paused and looked at his son. The younger mutant couldn't meet his gaze. "I couldn't kill you because deep down I knew we were blood and nothing could change that." His son's pained dark eyes met his own. "I…inherited your legacy." Logan tenderly put his arms around Akira's shoulders as sobs overtook him. Slowly, the moment of grief passed. And then Logan opened the door to find Rouge standing in front of him.

"_Okaeri." Welcome home. _Seeing Logan's raised eyebrow, Rouge explained to both of them in English that the Professor had taught her some Japanese expressions while they were away. Logan couldn't help but smile.

"_Tadaima." I'm home. _He alone did not say the words. Akira too said them. A full smile was on the former angry and lost mutant's face. Something akin to happiness was in his eyes.

His son said those words again. _"Tadaima." _Tears welled in his eyes again, but Logan and Rouge didn't brush them away. Logan closed the door behind them.


End file.
